


Extra Tall Banana Latte, Please

by milka121



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, CheriPas, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milka121/pseuds/milka121
Summary: Cheria Barnes was not gay. And even if, she definitely wouldn’t be gay forthis.Thisbeing a person with a stupid, punkish-like haircut and with a shit-eating grin plastered all over their face.





	Extra Tall Banana Latte, Please

**Author's Note:**

> every ship deserves a coffee shop AU and I'm here to deliver  
> thx to [Kuraino](https://kurainosousuke.tumblr.com/) for being my amazing beta :3

Cheria Barnes was not gay. And even if, she definitely wouldn’t be gay for _this._

 _This_ being a person with a stupid, punkish-like haircut and with a shit-eating grin plastered all over their face. It irritated Cheria to no end. Not only because it looked like this expression shouldn’t be physically possible (Cheria was pretty sure the person was literally flashing all their teeth), but also who the hell smirks like this after spilling all of their extra tall banana latte with extra milk and sugar and unholy amount of shots of espresso on a barista?

No. Not on a barista. On Cheria. And most importantly, Cheria’s brand new uniform, which, when she put it on in the morning, was in a beautiful shade of purest white.

And before you say that white doesn’t have shades - it _does_ , and Cheria knew it, because she was not blind and years spent as a tailor/designer/artist/painter have taught her to appreciate all of the unique shades in which white came.

Which now was ruined. Because of that girl who just _wouldn’t stop smirking_.

“Oops,” the girl said in a voice that instantly told Cheria that she didn’t regret this situation at all. Her smile didn’t falter, too. Or didn’t die out on the girl’s face as the time flew and the coffee kept dripping from the counter, down on Cheria’s boots and on the floor she has just washed that morning.

There wasn’t a line of clients waiting, but that didn’t mean the girl shouldn’t be acting more like a human being and not like - like a _jerk_ who came in here to give that ridiculous order and then cause trouble. And, god, Malik wasn’t even here, so who was Cheria supposed to bring if the woman asks for the manager?!

“Is everything okay?” a voice rung in Cheria’s ears, forcing her back into reality. Asbel was glancing at them from across the room, cloth in hand - Cheria remembered he had been cleaning the tables from nonexisting coffee stains before. And now he decided to come to the rescue, as the true gentleman he wasn’t.

“Yeah, everything's alright,” Cheria replied before she could think about the situation and got to the conclusion that yes, receiving some help in this situation would indeed help her. She made some vague gestures towards Asbel, though, hoping that her non-verbal plea would come across.

Asbel, of course, didn’t get that. “Oh, okay. Just asking.” He smiled in the most non-helpful way possible and returned to his previous task.

Cheria wanted to yell at him to stop polishing these stupid tables and to _help her_ , because she had a feeling that one more second and she will flip the whole counter at the woman in front of her and pour boiling water down her throat and-

“That would be 10 gald,” Cheria said with a wide smile, clenching her hand on the counter with just a little bit too much force.

The woman in front of her finally, _finally_ stopped smirking. Cheria’s mind cheered with triumph, flooding her brain with so much endorphins she barely understood the surprised:

“What, are you not going to write my name on the cup?”

 _Gods of eleth, give me strength,_ Cheria prayed and opened her mouth to say some less bombastic words, but the movement of the woman caught her eye - yes, she reached to her purse - if you can call ‘a purse’ something that in no way resembled a purse, but still hold a jingling amount of coins.

The woman turned the purse (sack? pouch?) upside down, and dropped on a coffee-flooded counter many things. None of which were coins. Most were screws, it seemed.

Which meant that unless the currency in Windor has changed a few minutes ago, the woman has ordered a coffee, ruined Cheria’s day _and_ was offended while not having the slightest intent to pay for her order.

Cheria’s eye twitched.

“Aw, shucks.” The woman scratched her head. “I, uh, I really have money, you know. Just not right now.”

Inhale. Exhale. _Don’t murder the client._

“I could, uh, I could take you out sometime, to pay for this,” the woman said, gesturing towards the mess that the counter was. “I will buy you a cake or something. Whaddaya say?”

Cheria let out the lingering air from her lungs, smiled, and punched the woman in the face.

* * *

Cheria couldn’t understand why the woman would ever come back to this place. They really didn’t have good food. Or coffee, for that matter. Cheria was half convinced that this place was still running only because in such a small town as Lhant there isn’t really any serious competition, as it’s left-leaning, anti-capitalism population wouldn’t accept on opening such an imperialism-promoting institution as Starbucks.

Nonetheless, it was hard to hide that the only person who more or less knew what they were doing was Cheria. And Sophie, but the girl was, you know, twelve. But for the record, Hubert was in fact following all of the official instructions Malik has given them and the tips Cheria was throwing here and there, but for a reason no one could exactly pinpoint, every coffee-like drink Hubert has produced had always had a weird aftertaste nobody was able to describe well enough to find the roots of the problem. After a few accidents and almost-lawsuit, the staff unanimously decided to leave Hubert in charge of segregating coffee beans instead. That, at least, didn’t make them taste like washing powder.

And after what has happened the day before - well, Cheria was close to having a heart attack when she saw the familiar red and white mess of hair passing on the street nearby. She froze, blinked, but the woman - because Cheria was sure it was _the_ woman from the day before - stubbornly kept existing outside of the cafe.

And Cheria wouldn’t really mind if the woman was simply existing outside of the place.

The thing was, _she_ came in, as nonchalantly as if not only nothing has happened, but waving to Asbel as if they have become best friends since yesterday.

Which, knowing Asbel’s tendency to adopt and protect pretty much everyone he spoke to, wouldn’t be surprising, but Cheria was sure the only interaction he and the woman ever had was when Asbel yelped when the woman’s body landed on the table he was polishing and when she dramatically broke the said piece of place’s furniture with enough force for Cheria to be sure the woman would never stand up again.

Yet there she was, tall and strong and apparently not dead.

Well, Cheria didn’t _really_ want to kill her, she just… she was stronger than she looked, and she wasn’t quite used to punching people, too, so the amount of force it was necessary to put in to do a real damage was just a little bit hard to measure. As such, she made sure the woman was alive before instructing Asbel to get her out of the shop because the woman has been _smiling_ and that in itself told Cheria that unless the woman was an utter idiot, she had to have a concussion.

Well. The woman in the shop didn’t look like she had a concussion. Or rather, she did, but she didn't falter or roll her eyes or-

“Hey!” the woman spoke in a high-pitched voice and waved to Cheria as well. “Whazzup?”

Behind the woman, Asbel sent Cheria an asking look.

She ignored it. Or more accurately, she was too frozen to move a muscle, so rolling her eyes at Asbel was out of question as for that moment.

How did this woman- She had the, the _nerve to_ -

“So, uh, I got money I owe you,” the woman said.

She dropped her gaze, as if she was genuinely sorry - and to be honest, Cheria felt a prickle of guilt seeing that expression; Cheria could have had _opinions_ about the woman’s fashion choice and all, but after all, she didn’t seem that bad. Especially while rocking on the balls of her feet and nervously tugging her scarf - _who wears a scarf in the middle of a summer?_ \- but anyway, she seemed more okay than at first glance. Even… well, pretty, if you were into that whole chaos and all.

Cheria’s mouth fell open at the thought and she almost didn’t catch the pouch the woman threw at her.

Cheria looked inside it, full of suspicion - but it was just money, thank heavens.

“No more screws, hm?” Cheria mumbled. And instantly covered her mouth with her hand; this situation must have started getting to her, oh no, and now she was being rude to a client who has come back to apologize. She quickly put away the pouch on the counter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

The woman scratched her head. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that… I tend to stick them everywhere when I’m in the middle of a project, and I just run past here and said to myself, ‘hey girl, you haven’t had a coffee in a long time, treat yo self and stuff’ and I kinda went here without thinking.”

“That’s…” Cheria wanted wanted to say ‘understandable’, but that would be too much of a stretch, “...well… okay. I owe you an apology, too. You know. For-”

“-beating my shit up?” Oh, this smile should _not_ be as wide. “Don’t worry, you would need more to end Pascal’s life! I’m suuuper resilient and stuff.”

Cheria blinked, blinked again just to make sure this situation was really happening, and nodded. “I, uh. I am glad.”

“You have really strong hands, you know.” The woman - Pascal - tilted her head playfully. “You could make a career out of this if you wanted.”

Cheria faked a laugh. It fell unusually flat, and Cheria mentally facepalmed herself. But to her surprise, Pascal didn’t seem to be fazed. “Um, thank you?”

“Yeah! A compliment. Right,” Pascal not as much mumbled as said out loud to herself. “Well, anyway, sorry and I hope you will enjoy your day! Pascal out!”

She turned around and in a one smooch jump was out of the door.

Asbel looked at Cheria with confusion all over his face. “Did you…?”

“Yes, Asbel, it was the girl from yesterday,” Cheria said. She sighed and propped herself on the counter.

And knocked the pouch on the floor, making the coins fly everywhere with a jingle.

“Ah, hell-” Cheria mumbled, leaning over to collect the thing, and froze.

Because between all of this mess, on the floor she has just yesterday scraped banana latte off, was a piece of paper. Which probably have fell out of the pouch.

Which had definitely could not have happened, because the thing scribbled on it was:

_wasn’t joking about the cake, though, next time it’s on me ;) -Pascal_

* * *

Cheria Barnes was _not_ gay. Not at all.

Probably.

_Shit._

**Author's Note:**

> Cheria is a disaster bi and that's tea


End file.
